works, and the frown may turn to fury in an
instant!

As they ascended, the road became gradually
more rugged and difficult. But the spirits of
Vendale rose as they mounted higher, leaving
so much more of the road behind them
conquered. Obenreizer spoke little, and held on
with a determined purpose. Both, in respect of
agility and endurance, were well qualified for
the expedition. Whatever the born mountaineer
read in the weather-tokens, that was illegible to
the other, he kept to himself.

"Shall we get across to-day?" asked Vendale.

"No," replied the other. "You see how
much deeper the snow lies here than it lay half
a league lower. The higher we mount, the
deeper the snow will lie. Walking is half
wading even now. And the days are so short! If
we get as high as the fifth Refuge, and lie
tonight at the Hospice, we shall do well."

"Is there no danger of the weather rising in
the night," asked Vendale, anxiously, "and
snowing us up?"

"There is danger enough about us," said
Obenreizer, with a cautious glance onward and
upward, "to render silence our best policy.
You have heard of the Bridge of the Ganther?"

"I have crossed it once."

"In the summer?"

"Yes; in the travelling season."

"Yes; but it is another thing at this season;"
with a sneer, as though he were out of temper.
"This is not a time of year, or a state of things,
on an Alpine Pass, that you gentlemen holiday-
travellers know much about."

"You are my Guide," said Vendale, good
humouredly. "I trust to you."

"I am your Guide," said Obenreizer, "and
I will guide you to your journey's end. There
is the Bridge before us."

They had made a turn into a desolate and
dismal ravine, where the snow lay deep below
them, deep above them, deep on every side.
While speaking, Obenreizer stood pointing at
the Bridge, and observing Vendale's face, with a
very singular expression on his own.

"If I, as Guide, had sent you over there,
in advance, and encouraged you to give a
shout or two, you might have brought down
upon yourself tons and tons and tons of snow,
that would not only have struck you dead, but
buried you deep, at a blow."

"No doubt," said Vendale.

"No doubt. But that is not what I have
to do, as Guide. So pass silently. Or, going as
we go, our indiscretion might else crush and
bury me. Let us get on!"

There was a great accumulation of snow on
the Bridge; and such enormous accumulations
of snow overhung them from projecting masses
of rock, that they might have been making their
way through a stormy sky of white clouds.
Using his staff skilfully, sounding as he went,
and looking upward, with bent shoulders, as it
were to resist the mere idea of a fall from above,
Obenreizer softly led. Vendale closely followed.
They were yet in the midst of their dangerous
way, when there came a mighty rush, followed
by a sound as of thunder. Obenreizer clapped
his hand on Vendale's mouth and pointed to the
track behind them. Its aspect had been wholly
changed in a moment. An avalanche had swept
over it, and plunged into the torrent at the
bottom of the gulf below.

Their appearance at the solitary Inn not far
beyond this terrible Bridge, elicited many
expressions of astonishment from the people shut
up in the house. "We stay but to rest," said
Obenreizer, shaking the snow from his dress at
the fire. "This gentleman has very pressing
occasion to get across;—tell them, Vendale."

"Assuredly, I have very pressing occasion.
I must cross."

"You hear, all of you. My friend has
very pressing occasion to get across, and we
want no advice and no help. I am as good a
guide, my fellow-countrymen, as any of you.
Now, give us to eat and drink."

In exactly the same way, and in nearly the
same words, when it was coming on dark and
they had struggled through the greatly
increased difficulties of the road, and had at last
reached their destination for the night,
Obenreizer said to the astonished people of the
Hospice, gathering about them at the fire, while
they were yet in the act of getting their wet
shoes off, and shaking the snow from their
clothes:

"It is well to understand one another,
friends all. This gentleman—-"

"—- Has," said Vendale, readily taking him
up with a smile, "very pressing occasion to get
across. Must cross."

"You hear?—- has very pressing occasion to
get across, must cross. We want no
advice and no help. I am mountain-born, and
act as Guide. Do not worry us by talking
about it, but let us have supper, and wine, and
bed."

All through the intense cold of the night,
the same awful stillness. Again at sunrise, no
sunny tinge to gild or redden the snow. The
same interminable waste of deathly white; the
same immovable air; the same monotonous
gloom in the sky.

"Travellers!" a friendly voice called to them
from the door, after they were afoot, knapsack
on back and staff in hand, as yesterday:
"recollect! There are five places of shelter, near
together, on the dangerous road before you;
and there is the wooden cross, and there is the
next Hospice. Do not stray from the track.
If the Tourmente comes on, take shelter
instantly!"

"The trade of these poor devils!" said
Obenreizer to his friend, with a contemptuous
backward wave of his hand towards the voice.
"How they stick to their trade! You Englishmen
say we Swiss are mercenary. Truly, it
does look like it."

They had divided between the two knapsacks,
such refreshments as they had been able to
obtain that morning, and as they deemed it
prudent to take. Obenreizer carried the wine
as his share of the burden; Vendale, the bread
and meat and cheese, and the flask of brandy.